


Day 3: Delirium

by tbazzsnow (Artescapri)



Series: Whumptober 2019 [3]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Delirium, Dodgy badgers, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Baz feeding, Simon POV, Whumptober 2019, bit of bad blood, day 3 prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 01:31:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21383890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artescapri/pseuds/tbazzsnow
Summary: Whumptober Day 3 prompt: Delirium.Simon worries when Baz is out too late only to find out that Baz has had a bit of a run in on his way home. A bit of hurt/comfort with an exasperated Penny.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Whumptober 2019 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1541554
Comments: 12
Kudos: 128





	Day 3: Delirium

**Simon**

Baz is late. He’d called to tell me he was going out for a quick drink with Niall and Dev after class but that was hours ago. He’s not one to drink much so I’m not that worried, but it’s later than I’d expect. We’d planned to watch a film tonight—one he’s been on me to watch for weeks.

I look at the clock again. It’s almost nine.

He probably stopped to feed.

I wish he wouldn’t do that. I’ve got supplies in the fridge for him. London’s not the best place to hunt, in my opinion. To hunt anything other than humans, I mean, and Baz most certainly doesn’t hunt those.

The rat-infested areas are mostly dodgy and the parks have all kinds of strange creatures in them at night. I don’t just mean the animals.

I know he prefers fresh blood but it’s a bit dicey. It's not like Watford. You never know who’s watching you. Weirdos on the street. Surveillance cameras. The odd goblin.

I suppose other vampires have it a bit easier. No one looks at them twice for walking around with a girl or a bloke they’re about to drain dry. Not even if they’re following someone, I’d wager.

It’s a whole other situation when you’re chasing a hedgehog in Regent’s Park or stalking the Battersea kids’ zoo after hours.

I’m almost ready to text him when I hear a thump at the door.

Baz has a key but he doesn’t like to use it. Penny gave him one months ago when we first moved in, for emergencies, and as a spare in case I lost mine (I haven’t) (she has) (she’d have been right out of luck if there wasn’t a spell for finding it).

He still knocks. He’s only used his key the one time, when my mobile was dead and I wasn’t answering any of his texts.

I didn’t know it was dead. Thought it was charging, I did. That’s how we know the outlet on the left side of the sofa is wonky now.

Baz even knocked that day, the prat. Knocked once and then burst in, hair going every direction, eyes wide and panicky. Looked like he’d run all the way here.

He had.

I don’t know what had him so worried. I was on the sofa eating crisps and watching last year’s Bake Off.

So I’m not surprised he’s knocking now, even though he knows he’s expected.

It’s not really a knock though, is it? There’s another thump and I hear something—his keys, I think—hit the floor. I can hear him groan as I open the door.

He looks terrible. I mean, Baz never _actually _looks terrible. I think it’s physically impossible for him to look that way. He looked good even after the whole numpty incident. Pale and thinner than usual, but still fit as hell.

Right now he’s got mud on his shoes and a streak of it on his cheek. His hair’s hanging in his face but messily. Not in the artful way he styles it now that he knows I don’t like it slicked back. He’s . . . well, he’s _disheveled_.

He’s leaning against the doorframe, slumped against it really, eyes half lidded. “Simon.” Even his words are off. Slurred almost, but I don’t think his fangs are down. His cheeks look normal, all high and chiseled, the sharp planes of his face pronounced as ever. I grab his sleeve and pull him into the flat.

He stumbles over the threshold.

That’s when I start to feel uneasy. Baz is grace and elegance personified. Even if he’s draining a deer in the middle of a forest. I shut the door and take a good look at him.

I actually lean close and sniff at him. I’m no vampire but I’ve got a pretty good nose after all those years chasing dark creatures and going on missions for the Mage.

Baz smells like sweat and musty leaves and just the barest hint of his cedar and bergamot. I thought he’d smell like alcohol but he doesn’t. There’s something more there but I can’t place it. A faint whiff of something sour. Bitter. Gamey

He slumps against me, which is also odd. I slide an arm around his waist to steady him and pull him close. His head droops onto my shoulder.

He’s warm. Too warm.

Fuck. Something’s wrong. Something is really wrong. We stumble our way to the sofa and I get him to sit. As soon as I let go he teeters sideways and he ends up sprawled across the sofa, feet on the floor, arms limp, cheek pressed against the cushions.

“You’re upside down, Simon.” It a mumble, none of Baz’s crisp elocution evident.

I press my hand against his forehead. It’s slick with sweat and far too warm. But he’s not flushed, not the way I would be if I had a fever.

Do vampires get fevers? I don’t know. I don’t think so. I didn’t think they even got sick.

Is Baz sick?

I’ve got no idea.

I should wake Penny.

I don’t want to leave Baz alone.

Fuck.

I kneel in front of him, my fingers sweeping the hair off his face, rubbing the mud off his cheek with my thumb. “Hey. You alright?”

I know he’s not but I don’t know what else to ask.

“Hmm.”

“That’s not an answer, Baz. It’s late. Where’ve you been?”

“Had a drink.”

“With Dev and Niall, yeah. You told me.” I lean closer and narrow my eyes. “Are you drunk?”

He blinks at me then shakes his head.

“Had a drink,” he says again.

“I know . . . you told me you were going out with—oh!” The realization strikes me midsentence. Not the alcoholic kind of drink. “Ok, you fed after going out with them, then?”

Baz nods but his brow furrows. He closes his eyes tightly, then opens them again, trying to keep his focus on me. He looks at me for an instant and then his eyes are darting around the room.

This is like playing twenty questions with a pixie. I can’t get a straight answer out of him.

“Where did you feed then?”

Baz shrugs. It’s more of a jerky motion of his shoulder than a shrug but I recognize the gesture. I’m quite well versed in shrugs. I can’t help but sigh.

“Regent’s?”

He shakes his head again. “Hyde?” I get a nod this time.

“Alright. You fed at Hyde Park. Hares? Squirrels?” That’s his usual there.

He shakes his head again.

I’ve always hated twenty questions. I don’t have the patience for it.

“Come on, Baz, give me something.”

“Badger.” It’s another mumble.

Odd. He usually avoids badgers. They’re a protected species and he’s fastidious about protecting the ecosystem.

He’s picking at the seam of the cushion with one hand, a nervous, repetitive motion. It’s like he’s drowsy but agitated at the same time. His leg’s jiggling too.

“You seem a bit off. I’m going to go get Penny.”

Baz grips my arm then, fingers like a vice around my bicep. “Don’t leave me.” His eyes dart around the room again. His voice drops. “Don’t leave me alone with _them_.” He shudders. “Don’t like moths.”

I turn around to scan the room. I don’t see anything. No moths. No shadows. Nothing.

I stroke his hair again. “Penny will know what to do.”

“Don’t leave me, Simon.” His eyes stay on me this time, unblinking, pupils wide and black.

“Alright. I won’t leave you. But you’re not well, Baz. You’re talking funny and you’re running a fever. I don’t know how to help you.”

“Don’t leave me, Simon. Don’t ever leave me.” His words are still too thick, sticky, as if it’s taking too much effort for him to push them out, tripping as they spill over his tongue. “Don’t know what I’d do without you, Simon.” I can hear the distress in his voice.

“Hey.” I take his hand in mine and twine our fingers together. “I’m here. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” I mean it. Not just for this moment. I try to push the conviction of that into my words, my voice. I lean down and press a kiss to his forehead. “I’m never leaving you, Baz Pitch,” I whisper. “I’ve never turned my back on you. And I don’t intend to.” He closes his eyes and relaxes a bit but he’s still worrying a loose thread on the sofa with his free hand.

“I’m going to give Penny a shout, ok?”

Since Baz isn’t going to let me leave him I bellow Penny’s name as loud as I can, the neighbours be damned.

She comes tearing into the room, ring pointed at the door. She takes in the sight of Baz on the sofa and huffs at me, eyes narrowed. “What the bloody hell was that, Simon? I thought the goblins had finally tracked you down.”

“It’s Baz. He’s not right.”

Penny rolls her eyes. “I’m not here to spell him sober if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Penny, you know as well as I do he rarely drinks. I think something’s really wrong with him.”

“Vampires don’t get sick, Simon,” she says, all exasperation, but she comes close enough to peer over my shoulder at Baz. His eyes are roaming around the room again.

“He’s warm too,” I say.

Penny reaches a hand out to Baz’s forehead. His eyes light on her and his lips curve up. “Penny.”

She frowns. “You’re right. Something’s off.” She takes in his tapping leg and roaming eyes. “Did he feed tonight?”

“Said he had a badger.”

“He never feeds on badgers.”

“That’s what I said.”

“They’re an endangered species.”

“That’s what I said too!”

Penny stares down at Baz for a minute and then her eyes widen. She grabs his shoulder. “Baz. Are you sure it was a badger?”

His eyes dart to her and he nods.

She shakes her head at me. “I think he fed on a worseger.”

“Oh fuck.”

Worsegers are like badgers only worse. Worse as in they’re _were_. Most of them anyway. The rest are just rabid.

“For fuck’s sake, Basil.” Penny’s got her hands on her hips and she’s glaring at him. “How could you be so stupid?”

“Don’t call him stupid,” I say. “He probably didn’t know. We didn’t know, that first time.”

“Simon, he’s a vampire! He should know about other dark creatures.”

“He’s not a dark creature.”

“Semantics.”

“He’s not, Penny. You know that.”

“Fine. He’s not. He’s a blithering idiot who fed on a fucking were badger.”

“So what does that mean? Is he were now too?” Wouldn’t that take the fucking cake. A were vampire. I don’t even know how that would work.

“No, Simon. You can’t infect a vampire. They’ve got some superhuman immune system.”

“So why the bloody hell is he like this? All feverish and jittery and weird?”

“Were is a virus. A really strong one. Strong enough to make even a vampire a bit wonky, I’d wager, at least for a little bit. At least until his vampire antibody or whatever fights it off.” Penny frowns. “Maybe Baz isn’t as well suited to fight it off as other vampires.” She gives me a pointed look. “He’s basically the vampire equivalent of a vegan and strict vegans have to supplement nutrients to shore up their vitamins and minerals and such.”

“So what do we do now?”

Penny shrugs. I’d not realized how irritating it is when people shrug.

“Penny, I’m being serious.”

“Have him bite on a silver bullet?”

“Penny!”

“Oh for magic’s sake, Simon, I’m kidding.” Her expression softens and she squeezes my shoulder with her hand. “Just be certain he drinks plenty of water to flush it out, make sure you have plenty of blankets—he’ll be freezing once the fever breaks, and talk him through whatever hallucinations or paranoid episodes he has.” She purses her lips before continuing. “It’s kind of like he’s having a bad high, I think. Like Ecstasy or tainted pot or something. A bad trip. Like a drug induced delirium.”

“Right.”

“I’m right here you know,” Baz says, a hint of his usual acerbic tone tinging his words.

“Ah, Basilton, how nice of you to join the conversation,” Penny says. “Try to avoid draining were creatures in the future perhaps? Give that a try?” She pats my head. “Keep your boyfriend from worrying too much, ok?”

And then she’s off, back to down the hall to her room.

I turn to Baz. He’s still agitated but he almost looks contrite.

“I can’t believe you drained a worseger, you stupid git.”

“Didn’t know. Thought it was just a cranky badger.”

“You really are a terrible vampire.” 

Baz shrugs again. I don’t mind it so much this time.

I lean in to kiss his forehead again.

“A terrible vampire. The worst,” I whisper.

“I’m sorry.”

I cup his face in my hands. “The worst Chosen One and the worst vampire ever.”

“You were never the worst Chosen One.”

“And you’re not the worst vampire.” I brush my lips to his. “But we are simply terrible boyfriends.” I kiss him again. “It couldn’t be more perfect.”

Baz frowns at me. “We’re the furthest thing from perfect.”

“Maybe we are,” I say, remembering. “But we match.”

That makes him smile.

Baz finally falls asleep in my arms, on the sofa. So much like that night last year.

He really does sleep fitfully this time though.

I think I’ve got bruises.


End file.
